


Lessons In Red

by skripka



Category: Mugen no Juunin | Blade of the Immortal
Genre: Age Difference, Blood Kink, Come as Lube, Knifeplay, M/M, Power Imbalance, intimations of sex work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 22:11:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17948072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skripka/pseuds/skripka
Summary: Why are you here?





	Lessons In Red

Sori sighed. The announcement of "Caller!" had interrupted his train of thought. He glanced critically at the painting he was in the midst of, garish in its incompleteness.

"This is not going to work," he grumbled to himself. A shadow crossed the lintel. "Yes? Who is it?"

"It's me, sensei." Sori turned to find the young boy who worked with Hyakurin standing in the doorway. "Shinriji? Remember?"

"Yes." Well, he remembered now. "So? Why are you here?"

"Um?" A hand stole to the back of the boy's neck, rubbing an invisible itch. "Well, you said, um, that you liked my, erm," and there was an inarticulate noise.

"Hm?" Sori turned back and glared at the mess on the wall. "Your what?"

The swallow was big enough to sound like an actual _gulp_. "My blood."

"Oh." 

"Just oh?" Shinriji sounded disappointed. 

Sori waved vaguely and irritably. "As you can see, today is not going well. Your blood may be the exact right color, but if there's nothing to use it on?" He sighed. "It won't keep. Come back tomorrow."

"Oh." It was an echo of Sori's reply. A few moments passed, and Sori felt the weight of eyes on his back. He looked at Shinriji.

"Was there something else?"

"Oh," and there was that rubbing again. "Um. Well, I was hoping for a bit of extra coin, and, well, there's nothing to do. So."

Sori lifted his eyebrows.

"Er. Do you have anything else you need doing?"

"Bored?" A soft grunt passed through Sori's lips. He looked appraisingly at the young man. "I'm sure I could find something for you to do."

"Sensei?"

Sori waved the boy further into the apartment. The late afternoon light slanted and diffused through the walls. The boy nervously walked forward, feet padding on the tatami mats. Sori's hand landed on Shinriji's lower back, the pressure guiding him into a small room, far from the street.

Shinriji stumbled slightly, caught by Sori's arm. The artist followed through with his motion and rolled the two of them into the wall, almost slamming Shinriji's body into the shoji screen. Sori pressed hard against Shinriji's back, a small rotation of his hip grinding his pelvis into the firm muscles of the younger man's ass.

The boy grunted in shock, but not pain. "So, Shinriji." Sori grabbed onto the flailing arms, and lapped delicately at the tendons that had tensed on the exposed neck. "I'm inspiration-less today. Feel like helping me out this way?" He ground in and licked again; the body under him shuddered in response. "Yes?"

A small huff of breath was Sori's only answer. He sighed, and pulled back, though not so far that he couldn't feel the body heat wafting off Shinriji. "I won't take you if you're unwilling, you know. I much prefer mutual bed sport."

Startled, Shinriji twisted around. "Um, no, Sensei." Still leaning against the wall, face flushed with blood, breath coming in short spurts, Shinriji looked almost desperate. "I'm just, you know, surprised that anyone...that you would want...um, me," he stuttered.

Sori shruggged. "Why not? You're of an age, you're fascinating to look at, and you seem to be willing."

Shinriji's mouth opened to stall further, but Sori grabbed it and captured any words that would have fallen out with a firm kiss. "Now, Shinriji, you have to do something for me." Shinriji nodded, dazed. "Can you do everything I ask you to do, just like I ask you to do it?" Another nod was his answer. "Good. Now strip." Sori stepped back, and leaned against the opposite wall to watch.

Layers of clothes came off quickly, and piled up haphazardly in the corner. Sori shook his head at the naked boy. "That will never do. Fold them neatly, Shinriji." Shinriji flushed with embarrassment, nakedly and awkwardly folding his kimono.

When he was done, he stood, as tall as he could, his penis half-erect. Sori approached, carefully closed his left hand around the boy's cock, and breathed warmly into Shinriji's ear. "Not bad at all." He punctuated each word with a rough pull and felt the boy strain not to thrust into his hand. A few more strokes, and Shinriji was gasping in pleasure. Sori grinned.

"Now it's time to test your discipline. Consider this...," he paused, organizing his thoughts, "a free lesson, of sorts." With a flamboyant wave of his arm, Sori produced a small dagger. "All you have to do, as I said before, is anything I ask." He looked deep into Shinriji's eyes. "Can you stand perfectly still?"

Shinriji nodded, eyes on the dagger.

The sharp blade of the knife flashed, bright against Shinriji's skin. "Are you sure? If you're not," and here, he slid the cold metal down the taut muscles. "You can still leave." Sori felt Shinriji's cock twitch. "No?"

A frantic headshake was his answer.

"Good." Sori looked closer at the chest in front of him. A few scars here and there, new, puckered ones crisscrossing across older, pale ones. The skin moved only with Shinriji's breathing, and the boy's nipples were taut already. "You know," he began again, conversationally, "a true kengo would scoff at pain. As a matter of fact, in moments of...passion, or rage, what have you, he would barely notice pain at all." 

Sori took a hold of Shinriji's cock again. As he pumped it, he took the dagger and made a small nick, just below Shinriji's right nipple. A bead of blood welled out. Sori ignored the sharp gasp from above as he examined it closer. "You know, it really is a perfect red." Letting go of Shinriji's cock, Sori pulled the blood off with his thumb. "And a nice viscosity, too." He slid his thumb into his mouth, sucking off the copper-taint, making sure Shinriji saw every move. The boy groaned, and his cock twitched again. 

The thumb slid out, and Sori took a long, slow lick across his palm. He gripped Shinriji's erection again, and gently stroked up and down, twisting and pulling. When the boy was sweating with the effort not to writhe in pleasure, he took another nick with the knife. Shinriji bit back a yelp, especially when Sori licked the blood right off his chest.

"Stings, doesn't it?" Sori smirked. "Just a bit, though. Nothing like a good punch or stab wound." Another nick, and another suck in tandem with a thumb running across the head of Shinriji's cock. "It's the combination of pleasure and pain that's surprising you, isn't it, boy?" 

Shinriji nodded vaguely, lost in sensation. Sori smirked again, and pumped harder. When Sori made a slice the size of his thumb and sucked the blood out, Shinriji came, gasping, spilling over Sori's hand. 

Placing the knife in his mouth and using his clean hand to undo his kimono, Sori mumbled, "Turn around." Shinriji complied, moving slowly. Sori kicked his legs apart a bit further, and slid a come-slick finger into Shinriji's tight hole. "Not terribly used to this part, are you, boy?" Another dazed shake of the head. Sori sighed. "Oh well, nothing to be done for it now, I suppose." 

A second finger squeezed in, and joined the first in stretching and scissoring Shinriji's hole open. Sori distracted him by taking occasional small slices across his back. Every drop of blood was gently laved away, and soon the groans Shinriji couldn't hold back were ones of pleasure, not discomfort.

Sori couldn't resist. He lined up his own cock and thrust in, slowly, feeling the tight muscles give way to him. He bit Shinriji's shoulder, muscle and sinew in his teeth, at the sensation as he finally seated himself all the way in. 

He took a deep, shuddering breath. "Here we go, boy," was all Sori said in preparation. Sori snapped his hips hard, and began shoving in and out of the tight hole. Every thrust up was shortly met by Shinriji's push down. Soon, they were moving in tandem, the pace designed to drive Sori to orgasm.

Blood washed through Sori's body as the white heat of orgasm spun through his brain. A last few savage thrusts, and he felt his seed coat Shinriji's innards. Sori dropped his head onto the boy's bock, and pressed their bodies into the wall at his completion.

Spent, Sori pulled out gently, almost reluctantly, and took a deep breath. Shinriji's back was marked with seven or eight angry small cuts, a livid bite was on his shoulder, and his legs trembled with strain. Sori smiled benevolently, and guided the young man to the bed. "Here, sit." A sudden thought struck him, and Sori stood, back straight.

Shinriji collapsed on the futon, groggy, as Sori's eyes widened. "That's it!" The older man whirled out of the room, kimono half on and half off. Shinriji drifted off into sleep lulled by the sound of Sori rattling his pans of paint around.

**Author's Note:**

> It's all Eli's fault, damnit. Eli, Eli, Eli. If she hadn't mentioned it, I wouldn't be writing it. So, happy birthday to Eli the Evil. Betaed by Chrissysue, the great, who whips my commas into shape.


End file.
